itself
astern in the glow of the light. Presently James judged that
they had run far enough on their starboard tack, and:
'Stand by to tack ship!' Striding to the weather rail he
nearly knocked Rennie down, and there was a moment of
embarrassment between them. Both men apologized, a little
too quickly, and each stood aside. James did not mind that
Rennie was on deck – indeed had felt obliged to invite him
there – but he sincerely wished and hoped that Rennie would
have the good sense, and the common courtesy, to keep out
of his way. Rennie in turn wished to keep out of that way, but
James was such an energetic commander, forever striding this
way and that, looking aloft at his canvas, going to the weather
rail, then to the lee, asking his helmsman how she lay, &c.,
&c., that in truth the senior man did not know where he
should place himself to be out of the way. Should he go
below? He asked the question.
'No. No, indeed, sir. I would not wish it. It is damned
cramped below, and the air gets stale so quick. You are better
off on deck, snuffing the wind.'
Both men knew that the real question had not been
answered, had not in fact been properly put. Should Rennie
be giving advice at all, about anything, unless he was
particularly asked? A big sea rolled heavily in, smacked under Hawk 's flat-sleeved bowsprit and bluff bow, and sent both
men reaching to clap on to a back stay. The helmsman
allowed her to sag off a little as she rode the wave, and Rennie
drew breath to say something – and had to bite his tongue.
To himself:
'Nay, I must not say a word. I must not say anything about
the handling of the ship, good God.' And even as he thought
it, James spoke:
'She is sagging off, Alden, bring her back now.'
'Aye, sir.'
James and his people brought the cutter through the wind
and on to the other tack, so that now she heeled steadily to
starboard, heading west-north-west into the wind, the coast
away to starboard in occasional faint glimmerings of light.
They sailed on, through the night.
They did not sight the Lark by hammocks up, when Hawk lay south in the Channel between St Alban's Head and
Portland Bill. Rennie did not expect to see her. James had
only half-expected it himself, their first foray into the open
sea. They went below to breakfast.
'I hope you do not take it wrong – if I make suggestions,'
said Rennie at breakfast, which they took together in the
cramped little great cabin.
'Nay, in course I do not take it wrong.' James drank coffee.
He did not eat. His guts had troubled him in the night, the
sea chopping and disturbed, with a deep wind-enhanced swell
as they had run close-hauled, tack on tack, heading west, then
had come about and gone large, boarding long, in long
sweeps. He had insisted on keeping guncrews on deck, fifteen
men to man the weather guns, crossing the deck as their
course dictated, and the weather side became the lee. This
deployment, and the constant requirement of hands to make
sail, haul, trim, sheet home, had tested his people to the full,
and now they were tired. James had given the order to stand
down, and a further order that a measure of grog was to be
issued with their oats, to be taken unwatered by those who
wished it.
'Is that wise, d'y'think?' Rennie had blurted, when James
gave the instruction to his steward purser.
James had frowned, glanced at Rennie and said, not quite
curtly: 'They have earned it. I have tested them, and they
have earned it.'
Rennie, knowing his error even as he spoke, had nodded
and said nothing more.
As they finished breakfast a small vessel was sighted to the
south. They went on deck, and Lieutenant Hayter put his
helm down and ran towards the sighted ship. She was a
cutter.
'Can it be her?' Half to himself. 'Can that be the Lark ?'
Aloud, lowering his glass: 'Mr Holmes! Where the devil is Mr
Holmes?' Glancing about. His senior mid was not on deck.
He had been on deck at the beginning of the watch. What in
Christ's name did he mean by absenting
astern in the glow of the light. Presently James judged that
they had run far enough on their starboard tack, and:
'Stand by to tack ship!' Striding to the weather rail he
nearly knocked Rennie down, and there was a moment of
embarrassment between them. Both men apologized, a little
too quickly, and each stood aside. James did not mind that
Rennie was on deck – indeed had felt obliged to invite him
there – but he sincerely wished and hoped that Rennie would
have the good sense, and the common courtesy, to keep out
of his way. Rennie in turn wished to keep out of that way, but
James was such an energetic commander, forever striding this
way and that, looking aloft at his canvas, going to the weather
rail, then to the lee, asking his helmsman how she lay, &c.,
&c., that in truth the senior man did not know where he
should place himself to be out of the way. Should he go
below? He asked the question.
'No. No, indeed, sir. I would not wish it. It is damned
cramped below, and the air gets stale so quick. You are better
off on deck, snuffing the wind.'
Both men knew that the real question had not been
answered, had not in fact been properly put. Should Rennie
be giving advice at all, about anything, unless he was
particularly asked? A big sea rolled heavily in, smacked under Hawk 's flat-sleeved bowsprit and bluff bow, and sent both
men reaching to clap on to a back stay. The helmsman
allowed her to sag off a little as she rode the wave, and Rennie
drew breath to say something – and had to bite his tongue.
To himself:
'Nay, I must not say a word. I must not say anything about
the handling of the ship, good God.' And even as he thought
it, James spoke:
'She is sagging off, Alden, bring her back now.'
'Aye, sir.'
James and his people brought the cutter through the wind
and on to the other tack, so that now she heeled steadily to
starboard, heading west-north-west into the wind, the coast
away to starboard in occasional faint glimmerings of light.
They sailed on, through the night.
They did not sight the Lark by hammocks up, when Hawk lay south in the Channel between St Alban's Head and
Portland Bill. Rennie did not expect to see her. James had
only half-expected it himself, their first foray into the open
sea. They went below to breakfast.
'I hope you do not take it wrong – if I make suggestions,'
said Rennie at breakfast, which they took together in the
cramped little great cabin.
'Nay, in course I do not take it wrong.' James drank coffee.
He did not eat. His guts had troubled him in the night, the
sea chopping and disturbed, with a deep wind-enhanced swell
as they had run close-hauled, tack on tack, heading west, then
had come about and gone large, boarding long, in long
sweeps. He had insisted on keeping guncrews on deck, fifteen
men to man the weather guns, crossing the deck as their
course dictated, and the weather side became the lee. This
deployment, and the constant requirement of hands to make
sail, haul, trim, sheet home, had tested his people to the full,
and now they were tired. James had given the order to stand
down, and a further order that a measure of grog was to be
issued with their oats, to be taken unwatered by those who
wished it.
'Is that wise, d'y'think?' Rennie had blurted, when James
gave the instruction to his steward purser.
James had frowned, glanced at Rennie and said, not quite
curtly: 'They have earned it. I have tested them, and they
have earned it.'
Rennie, knowing his error even as he spoke, had nodded
and said nothing more.
As they finished breakfast a small vessel was sighted to the
south. They went on deck, and Lieutenant Hayter put his
helm down and ran towards the sighted ship. She was a
cutter.
'Can it be her?' Half to himself. 'Can that be the Lark ?'
Aloud, lowering his glass: 'Mr Holmes! Where the devil is Mr
Holmes?' Glancing about. His senior mid was not on deck.
He had been on deck at the beginning of the watch. What in
Christ's name did he mean by absenting
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